


Grab On and Hold

by sequence_fairy



Category: Bleach
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Infidelity, Pining, Post-Canon, fair warning that i have never been off my bullshit, so here we go again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy
Summary: Rukia startles, looking up to meet Ichigo's eyes in the mirror. For a long moment, they stare at each other.“What are you doing?” Rukia hisses when she finally finds her voice.“Never mind,” Ichigo says, ducking his head to press his mouth to her temple. Her skin still feels the same. Ichigo inhales, hands sliding down until his palms come to rest around the curve of her hips. She still smells the same, like gardenias and ice.At the party, Ichigo and Rukia sneak away for a moment alone.
Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 20
Kudos: 130





	Grab On and Hold

**Author's Note:**

> For Karoll. 
> 
> Cribbed roughly from [this post](https://dangerousbride.tumblr.com/post/154659524907/revenge-time-rukias-teasings-1-2), but with a little embellishment as was requested. 
> 
> Thanks to Erin and Tiff for the read-through. It's been a long time since I've been back here. I hope I continue to do them justice.

_This ain't no hymn_  
_This ain't no warning to run from sin  
This ain't no dagger for sticking in_

\- [This Ain’t No Hymn - Saint Savior](https://open.spotify.com/track/3P8lgRVliTqN5TrvzztHSY?si=EmAaKQ_oThOaBaCi-Jj4xg)

The party’s been going on for most of the evening. 

Ichigo should be entertaining his guests, but he is, instead, slipping away from the laughing group gathered in his living room. He’s not drunk enough not to know what he’s doing, but he’s not sober enough to stop himself from going to find her. Ichigo sneaks up the stairs of his own house, careful to avoid the creaking tread in the middle of the staircase. He finds her in the guest bathroom. She’s leaning over the sink, hands pressed against the countertop, hair hanging down enough to obscure her face.

“Hey,” he says, sliding up behind her, reaching out to span her waist with his hands. He hasn’t touched her like this in years, not since before he put _zangetsu_ down for good. He can still span her entire waist in his grip, fingertips just touching beneath her navel. It makes the blood rush past his ears. 

She startles, looking up to meet his eyes in the mirror. For a long moment, they stare at each other. 

“What are you doing?” Rukia hisses when she finally finds her voice. 

“Never mind,” Ichigo says, ducking his head to press his mouth to her temple. Her skin still feels the same. Ichigo inhales, hands sliding down until his palms come to rest around the curve of her hips. She still smells the same, like gardenias and ice.

“Never mind!?” Rukia’s voice rises in volume. She grabs his wrists, stilling his wandering palms. Ichigo flexes his hands against her grip, enjoying the lean strength of her. He could break out of her hold, but he likes that she’s holding him where she wants him.

“Shh,” Ichigo says, into the side of her neck, “you wanna get caught?” 

Rukia stills in his arms, but she doesn't pull away. “What’re you doing?” 

Ichigo leans a little more firmly against her, so she can feel exactly what he’s doing. She shudders as he presses against her, and her head drops back against his chest. He catches her eye in the mirror. 

“Everyone downstairs is too drunk to notice,” Ichigo says, sliding one hand up over her dress to cup her breast, feeling the gentle weight of it against his palm. Rukia arches into his touch. Ichigo leans down to nuzzle at her neck, but Rukia turns in his arms, pushes herself up onto her toes and catches his mouth with her own. 

The kiss burns straight through any of Ichigo’s reservations. Not that he had that many to begin with. Rukia’s like a live-wire under his palms, and electricity zips up his spine as they kiss, as she licks into his mouth, as she shivers beneath the sweep of his palms up the line of her spine, over her dress. 

“Up,” he says, lifting his head. Rukia looks up at him. Her mouth is kiss-swollen and red, a flush riding high on her cheeks, her hair a riot from the way his fingers have been in it. She’s glorious he thinks, and then she cants her hips forward to press against him. Ichigo’s mouth drops open, and he closes his eyes. 

Rukia reaches back behind and lifts herself up onto the counter. Ichigo steps forward into the space between her knees. He slides both hands up the outside of her thighs, lifting the hem of her dress as he goes. The sundress slips along her skin with a whisper of silk, until it reaches her hips and Ichigo’s hands slide up under it, fingertips coming to rest just below her breasts. 

Rukia arches into his touch, and Ichigo dips down, capturing her mouth with his. The kiss sears across his nerves, making every part of him come alive. Rukia’s tongue darts out to sweep along his bottom lip, and Ichigo opens to her. The kiss is filthy wet, and Rukia’s hands come up to his shoulders, her nails digging in. She moans when Ichigo’s hands slide up, cupping her breasts, feeling her nipples harden beneath his palms. 

Ichigo pulls back, just far enough to break the kiss. “Shh,” he says, ducking down to nuzzle at her neck. He tweaks one nipple then the other and Rukia shudders against him. He can hear the whine in the back of her throat, the one she’s trying to stop. Heat pools in his belly, and his hips stutter forward into the cradle of Rukia’s. The shocking warmth of her centre is obvious even through the layer of his jeans. 

“Ichigo,” Rukia says, breathless, into the meat of his shoulder, “Ichigo, please.” 

“Please, what?” Ichigo asks, just because he can. He knows what she wants. He has to hear her say it, he wants her to tell him she’s as affected as he is. Wants to hear it in the way her voice goes thready and strained, wants to taste it in the way she kisses him. 

“You know,” Rukia defers, and Ichigo pulls back far enough to look her in the eye. He lets his hands slide down to rest against her hips, feeling the band of her panties against the smooth expanse of her skin. 

“Tell me anyway.”

Instead of speaking, Rukia reaches between them, fingers pulling at the button of his pants. 

“Rukia,” Ichigo says, and Rukia’s hands still. She looks up at him. Her cheeks are flushed, her mouth red and wet and her eyes hazy. Ichigo lifts one hand to trace the line of her jaw, and tucks a lock of hair behind one ear. “God,” he says, entirely unable to help himself, “you’re beautiful.” 

Rukia flushes further, and ducks her head to break their gaze. Her fingers graze against the skin of Ichigo’s low belly. “I want you,” she says, “I’ve been wanting you.” Rukia pops the button of Ichigo’s fly, and then she has a hand around him, her palm cool against his heated flesh. 

Ichigo’s body bows forward of its own accord, until his forehead rests against her shoulder. He groans as she jacks him. A dry handjob shouldn’t do it for him, but it’s Rukia’s hand, and Ichigo has always, always, been weak to the feel of any part of her against any part of him. Heat bubbles and pools at the base of his spine, and suddenly all Ichigo wants is to be as close to her as possible. 

With one hand still threaded through her hair, Ichigo drags his other hand down the centre of her, just enough pressure against her cunt that she’ll be able to feel it through her panties, and feels the bite of Rukia’s teeth in his shoulder as he does it. Her grip on him tightens, and Ichigo fucks up into the circle of her fingers, reveling in the feel of it. At the same time, he tugs her panties to one side and slides his finger through her slick folds. 

Rukia gasps. Ichigo presses in, feeling the give of her around his finger, and brings his thumb up to rub at her clit. He feels her clench around his finger. Rukia’s hand around his cock tightens again, almost to the point of discomfort, before she lets him go and presses both hands against the countertop, leaning back to give him more room. 

Her head tips back, baring her throat. She’s biting her bottom lip nearly bloodless, desperate to keep from making any sound. Ichigo slides another finger into her, alongside the first, and her hips jump. Ichigo steadies her with his other hand, spreading her legs open further and pressing deeper into her wet heat.

“Oh god,” Rukia says, high and thready, catching his eyes with hers. One of her hands is wrapped around the forearm of the hand he has between her thighs. He knows she can feel the way his muscles move under his skin as he fucks her. She says his name on a whine, and her nails dig into the thin skin of his inner wrist.

Ichigo would let her claw him open if she wanted. He’d do it himself if she asked. The thought makes his cock throb. 

“Yeah?” Ichigo asks. She’s flushed down her chest, the colour disappearing under the neckline of her sundress. Her nipples are standing to attention underneath the fabric. He can’t, but he wants to put his mouth around one, suck on it through her dress, leave a wet stain she won’t be able to explain. It’s the same urge that makes him want to worry a mark into the side of her neck. He doesn’t do that either, but he wants to. 

It must show on his face, because Rukia tilts her hips, trying to get his fingers deeper inside her. “Fuck,” she says, low and wrecked. 

Rukia gets a hand between them again, sliding along Ichigo’s length, thumb pressing at the underside of the head of his cock. Ichigo’s hips stutter forward, and Rukia’s mouth curves into a slow bloom of a smile. 

“I want you inside me.”

Ichigo has to close his eyes, has to swallow hard, has to brace himself against her, knees suddenly weak. 

“Please,” Rukia says, bringing up her free hand to cup the side of his face and draw him down to her. “Please,” she says again, against his mouth. She kisses him then, one hand still on his dick, and Ichigo wants to climb inside her skin, bury himself in the warmth of her. He can feel the cool metal of her wedding ring on his cheek. It should bring him back to earth, should return him to his senses. It doesn’t. Instead, he pulls his fingers out of her, and helps her lift her hips so he can pull her panties down and off. 

Rukia reaches for him, shoving his pants down but not all the way off. She takes him in hand, as if he needs any help, and guides him home. Ichigo grits his teeth against the pleasure of that first slide. She’s a furnace inside, and dripping wet. Rukia braces herself against the countertop with both hands, and rocks down further onto him, until he’s entirely sheathed within her. 

Ichigo grips her hips, and before he can move, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He’s flushed, his hair is a riot, and he can see the glint of his wedding band in the bunched folds of Rukia’s dress. Ichigo closes his eyes, presses his cheek to Rukia’s temple, and moves. Rukia clenches around him, and the feeling of it goes all the way through Ichigo, like a knife to the gut. He pulls her forward, driving into her as he does. His grip on her hips is probably going to leave marks, but Ichigo can’t seem to stop holding onto her. 

Rukia winds her arms around his neck, pressing against him. They move together. Her face is buried in his chest, and Ichigo tucks his own face down against her temple, trying desperately to hold in the sounds that want to escape as he fucks into her. 

“Ichi– _ah_ –go,” Rukia whines, when Ichigo’s hips stutter, shoving her back against the mirror. They nearly come apart then, but Rukia plants a hand beside herself and arches to meet Ichigo’s next thrust. The bottles on the counter rattle alarmingly, but Ichigo’s too far gone now, he can’t stop. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Ichigo pants into Rukia’s ear. “‘M gonna come,” he says, feeling the way his balls are drawing up, the way his whole body is starting to go tight as he nears the edge. 

“Do it,” Rukia says, voice low and right in his ear. 

Ichigo comes on a keening whine, jaw clenched tight enough to make his teeth creak. Rukia reaches between them as he fucks her through his climax, and then she’s shaking apart, her head thrown back, and mouth open in a silent ‘o’. 

Immediately after, Ichigo stumbles back on shaky legs, slipping out of her and making them both hiss. Rukia slumps back against the mirror. Ichigo leans against the wall and rakes shaking hands through his hair. They’re both breathing hard. 

There’s a cheer from downstairs and all of a sudden Ichigo remembers where they are. Rukia’s head comes up at the same time. 

“I–” Ichigo starts. 

“I know,” Rukia says, hopping down off the counter and picking up her panties with the curl of her toes into the fabric. She pulls them on and smooths her dress down over her hips. There’s nothing she can do about the way her nipples are still pebbled and hard, but she runs a hand through her hair and turns around, facing the sink. 

Ichigo pulls his pants back up and tucks himself away. Rukia runs the tap, rinsing her hands and then stepping under Ichigo’s arm to reach the towel when he comes in to wash his own hands. 

“Rukia,” Ichigo says, reaching out to grab her wrist as she reaches for the door. She stops and looks up at him. Her eyes are wide, and still, always, the same brilliant violet. “Please,” he says, not entirely sure what he’s asking for. 

For a long moment, they share a silent gaze. 

“I can’t pretend anymore,” Rukia says, and steps in closer to him, lifting herself up onto her toes so she can kiss him. Ichigo sighs into her mouth, winding his still damp hands around her waist. “I love you,” Rukia says, against his lips.

“I know,” Ichigo says, kissing her again, and again, memorizing the taste of her mouth, the soft plushness of her lips against his. “I love you, too.” 

They finally break apart, and Rukia looks up at him. There’s something hopeful in the upturned corners of her mouth, and Ichigo can feel his own smile growing on his face. 

“I don’t want this to be the last time,” Rukia says, reaching up to touch the side of Ichigo’s face. 

“It doesn’t have to be,” Ichigo says, mirroring her touch with his own. He can see this choice unfolding in front of them; the inevitable fights, the rigid disapproval, the anger. In between that though, there’s always her, wide-eyed and beautiful. Ichigo decides that he can make it through the rest, so long as she’s with him.

“Okay,” she says, and leans up to kiss him again. When she unlocks the door and steps through it, it doesn’t feel like goodbye.

**Author's Note:**

> Please come and chat with me about my fic on [tumblr](http://sequencefairy.tumblr.com) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/warpspeed_chic).


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